I’m a Max-Level Taoist Master, and You’re Throwing Me Into a Rules-Based Horror Game?! - Chapter 21

Chapter 21: The Special Room on the Third Floor!

The most nervous people weren’t the audience—it was the chosen ones inside.

The viewers had a thousand strategies and ten thousand tricks in their minds.

Sitting in front of the big screen, they criticized the chosen ones, calling them stupid and mocking their decisions.

But only those who entered truly understood how terrifying it was.

The setting of the supernatural world was eerie and horrifying to begin with.

A single misstep could lead to a fate worse than death.

Many of the chosen ones had bold ideas, but they simply didn’t dare act on them.

Instead, they opted for the safest approach.

After all, they only had one life—no save points, no respawns. Playing it safe was the logical choice.

Even if they embarrassed themselves, survival was all that mattered.

Hidden in the secret compartments of the archives, the chosen ones trembled with tension.

They could hear heavy footsteps entering the room, moving around as if searching for any signs of life.

The moment the intruder stepped inside, the temperature in the archives plummeted.

It was as if he was a herald of winter, carrying an aura of freezing desolation.

Many of the chosen ones shivered violently, regretting not bringing the coat from the security room.

At this point, even the stench of the coat seemed preferable to freezing to death.

Trapped in the hidden compartments, they couldn’t see outside—they could only press their ears to the walls, listening for movement.

Some checked their phones, waiting for the right moment.

But none dared make a sound, terrified of alerting the icy wax figure.

Even as their bodies trembled from the cold, they clenched their teeth, silently praying for the creature to leave.

If they fell asleep now, they might never wake up again.

Rahman, the chosen one from Pyramid Country, found the entity horrifying—and this was just through a wall, without even facing it directly.

If he actually confronted the frozen wax figure, could he even survive?

Getting close seemed impossible without turning into an ice statue.

Was killing it really a hidden quest? And if so… was it even humanly possible?

This thought lingered in Rahman’s mind.

He had a reward item—maybe he could attempt the hidden mission.

Rumors said completing hidden quests granted special rewards—useful both in reality and in future supernatural encounters.

Even if he got unlucky and was dragged into another nightmare, these bonuses would act like minor cheats, making survival easier.

To distract himself from the cold, Rahman forced his mind elsewhere.

Back when he worked in archaeology, he’d faced life-or-death situations before—nearly drowning once, barely escaping traps.

His sharp instincts had saved him time and again.

This time, he’d been cautious from the start, avoiding mistakes.

He’d even silenced his phone, eliminating any chance of accidental noise.

He’d done everything he could to maximize his odds.

Before long, the heavy footsteps faded, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.

The temperature in the hidden compartment slowly rose, and the chosen ones rubbed their arms, desperate for warmth.

Earlier, with the frozen wax figure nearby, they hadn’t even dared to breathe too loudly.

Now, with survival within reach, no one wanted to die from recklessness.

But even after the creature left, they didn’t immediately emerge.

The phone screen read 4:50 AM.

According to the fragile female spirit, the entity would descend to the first floor at 5:00 AM.

They only had from 5:00 to 5:30 AM to move freely.

Rahman, ever cautious, decided to wait a little longer.

What if the frozen wax figure doubled back?

At 5:02 AM, he finally crept out of the hidden compartment.

Fresh air filled his lungs—it felt like being reborn.

He checked the peephole first, then cracked the door open slightly, scanning the hallway.

No movement. No sound.

Time was running out.

He slipped out, gently closing the door behind him, ensuring no noise would attract attention.

Unlike other chosen ones, Rahman had doubted the fragile spirit’s words.

So instead of rushing upstairs, he headed to the surveillance room.

He needed to review the footage—to see what the frozen wax figure had done on the second floor, even catch a glimpse of its appearance.

Most chosen ones would’ve thought of this—the cameras were their eyes.

On the screen, a terrifying, hulking figure appeared.

It stood at least two meters tall, with a monstrous build that looked capable of crushing a man with one swing.

Its face was grotesque—ugly, menacing, like the final boss of a zombie apocalypse.

Just one glance was enough to know: this thing was not to be messed with.

Even through the screen, the chosen ones feared it might suddenly turn and stare back.

The sheer pressure it exuded made them dread ever facing it directly.

Right now, the frozen wax figure was inspecting the wax statues in the first-floor exhibition hall.

After that, it would sweep the lobby before finally returning.

Rahman checked his phone—5:10 AM.

Which meant he had twenty minutes before the creature came back upstairs.

He needed to use this time to explore Room 3-2 on the third floor for useful clues.

Other chosen ones had the same idea, all creeping upstairs cautiously.

The door to 3-2 had a twist handle.

A few chosen ones touched it—only to yank their hands back in pain, barely stifling their cries.

The handle was icy, as if lined with needles, nearly freezing their skin on contact.

Smarter ones, like Rahman, covered their hands with their sleeves before turning it slowly.

But even after opening the door, not everyone dared enter.

What if something else lurked inside?

Most chose to snap pictures with their phones or use reflective surfaces to peek in first.

Only after confirming the room was empty did they step inside.

The time was now 5:43 AM—they had seventeen minutes left.

The room was just as freezing, if not worse.

Frost coated the walls and furniture.

Flashlights revealed what looked like a normal office—except for two cryogenic pods in the center.

The second pod sent chills down their spines—what if another frozen wax figure was inside?

But upon closer inspection… it was empty.

A collective sigh of relief.

Now, despite the unbearable cold, the chosen ones scattered, searching for clues.

Some tried to sabotage the pods.

Everyone was busy—except for the chosen one from Dragon Country.

He was so relaxed that foreign viewers couldn’t help but wonder:

“How is this guy still alive?”